


Dawn Rituals

by Shadaras



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Wuxia, M/M, No Dialogue, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:34:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26326468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadaras/pseuds/Shadaras
Summary: Quiet moments at dawn in the mountain school of Qiyunxue.
Relationships: Chirrut Îmwe/Baze Malbus
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19
Collections: We Die Like Fen 4: We Lived to Die Afen





	Dawn Rituals

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gloss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloss/gifts).



> This is apparently when happens when I start thinking about a Hogwarts AU.

The sun rose over the mountain, its tendrils weaving through the heavy fog and setting it alight in rose and peach and gold. Baze Malbus, chief herbalist of Qiyunxue, watched the light illuminate the day and bring color to the world. The soft grays of pre-dawn were gorgeous, but he had a soft spot for this first touch, the kiss of light upon the world.

As the birds began to sing, Baze hefted his mallet and strung the morning gong: Once, twice, three times it rang out and sent those self-same birds fluttering madly into the air.

Baze smiled slightly as the final echoes settled into the earth. There were no students yet awake, and thus nobody to see him break his facade of seriousness. Soon they would gather in the courtyard, and then they would together greet the new day with meditative movement. He had no feelings about the ritual of his own, but Chirrut loved it and so—for his husband’s sake—Baze loved it too.

The rustle of feet and the low-voiced chivvying of senior students heralded the arrival of juniors. Some were fresh-faced initiates still unused to the school’s long days—whether they came from scholar families, soldier families, or the streets; the intensive studies of cultivation were unfamiliar to them—and the rest could walk from their bed to the courtyard and through every movement without truly waking up, they were so conditioned into the ritual.

Baze liked watching them, liked learning which students were morning-driven like he was (sometimes he saw them in the pre-dawn hours as he walked long arcs of solitude, reinforcing the cloud-wards) and which stumbled into the day with their hair hastily tied and crooked on the crown of their head. The older students, regardless of their preferences, had long since learned to wake before the gong and so were all presentable at minimum.

One student, a newcomer named Lu Xiao, waved at Baze with a wide smile that Baze still didn’t understand. He’d been brought back by Qui-Gon three weeks again, and Baze still didn’t know what to make of either of them—Qui-Gon had been a teacher in his youth, but he was restless and rarely stayed put for longer than a week at a time, even in winter. Lu Xiao, on the other hand… 

Lu Xiao had been a slave, once. He no longer was. Obi-Wan had murmured the story to Baze as they walked the woods together, private in the company of the trees and rocks. Baze still didn’t know how Qui-Gon had found the boy, let alone why a wild half-Mongol child winning a horse race had been reason enough to bring him back to the school. But Qui-Gon was his elder, and so Baze didn’t ask; even Obi-Wan, as Qui-Gon’s apprentice, hadn’t.

Today, though, Baze simply raised a hand in acknowledgement as Lu Xiao scampered off, barefoot as ever. Someday, when winter came around again, Baze thought he might wear shoes to avoid losing his toes to the snow. But for now, frost barely kissed the spring-softening ground, so he didn’t worry. The child’s feet would grow tough and strong, and that was what they desired.

Baze ambled his way through the tail end of the student cluster, taking his usual position at the back, and met Chirrut’s eyes across the crowd. Chirrut smiled, their hearts beating in time as their souls kissed across the air, the red-gold pulse telling Chirrut he was there. He liked being an anchor, a timekeeper; the rhythm of the sun and moon kept steady in his actions, and he let that pace echo out into the world to keep everything moving as it should.

Chirrut’s blind eyes turned to contemplate the students, and Baze was released from the thrumming braid of their hearts. Now he, too, could look and see that most students were standing straight and tall, and only a very few were yawning. That was good, even if a few of the adults standing along the edges seemed bleary-eyed from late nights. Chirrut, of course, was unaffected; he had cultivated to the point where it would take multiple sleepless nights for him to begin to waver.

But he was a prodigy, and cared more for inner cultivation than many of those at Qiyunxue. From what Obi-Wan had said, Qui-Gon believed that Lu Xiao could match Chirrut if he were trained. Baze worried about that, as Chirrut’s heart meant he’d never wanted more than to study and teach. Lu Xiao, from the conversations he’d had with Baze as Baze taught him how to work the garden, wanted to learn all the skills he’d need to free his family—and every other slave in the north.

A noble goal, but Baze did not believe the path Qiyunxue taught was one meant for battle, and Lu Xiao’s eyes gleamed with the unsurprising desire for a sword of every youth raised on stories of cultivators on swords flashing the prismatic tones of their heart. But the swords arts were not his to teach; while Baze had been a soldier once, he had returned to Qiyunxue to cultivate a more tender path of slow-growing greenery and carefully-drawn wards.

He had begun matching Chirrut’s slow warm-up motions without thinking. The whole school moved as one for this quarter-hour as the sun burnt off the soft layer of fog and began to bathe the world in light. Baze turned his face up to the sun and let his muscles soften into the motion, feeling the clean and joyous qi rising and tying the whole community together.

When Chirrut stilled at last and bowed, the power sank into the stones. Baze could feel it funneling into the arrays that kept Qiyunxue safe—he had been maintaining the wards for years; others weren’t as attuned to them—and felt some tension in his chest release. Everything was as it was meant to be.

As the students quietly exited the courtyard, Baze stayed still. Chirrut knew where he was, and would come to him, bare feet tracing the worn stones and staff tapping out warning for students who lingered in his path. A smile blossomed on Chirrut’s face when his staff touched Baze’s boots, and he took one final step so that he was tight against Baze’s body, face tilted up to meet Baze’s own.

There was nobody else in the courtyard when they kissed, but the concentrated power of qi that washed over Baze rivalled the whole school’s subtle workings. Baze laughed as it resonated through his body and echoed back into Chirrut, helpless as ever in the face of Chirrut’s silent declarations of love. He wrapped his arms around his husband’s slender form, their cheeks pressed together, and simply breathed.

As with every morning, Baze was grateful to live, and work, and love together with such a beautiful man. This moment could not last forever, but he would hold it as long as he could, and that was more than he could’ve dreamed in his youth.

**Author's Note:**

> Some worldbuilding notes, for funsies and because if I spent the time figuring this out you get to know too!
> 
> Qiyunxue is an old school founded on a foggy mountain; the fog is a ward preventing anyone but members of the school from entering the grounds. Its sect colors are cream and soft green (bamboo). Baze teaches herbology, Chirrut teaches meditation/basic golden core formation stuff.
> 
> I did not commit to characters for the name, but for those who're curious: Qi3Yun2Xue2  
> (silk, alternately open/start/enlighten)/(cloud/speak/emphasis)/School  
> Perhaps named after its founders, Qi something or other and Yun something or other.


End file.
